


The Only Way to Stay Sane

by thegirlwhoknits



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crack, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 08:11:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17097047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwhoknits/pseuds/thegirlwhoknits
Summary: Peter and Stiles are stuck together in the train station. They stay (relatively) sane the only way they know how - mainly through snark.~“I have to get out of here,” Peter grumbled after yet another unsuccessful escape plan. “I deserve better lighting than this.”





	The Only Way to Stay Sane

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lua](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lua/gifts).



> My Steter Secret Santa gift for vidronoliquidificador!
> 
> They requested canon-compliant, which was a little difficult since I noped out of canon after That Scene in Season 4. 
> 
> So I got out a bottle of hard cider, girded my loins, and watched a single episode of Season 6. 
> 
> ...This was the best I could do. I hope you like it anyway, and have a great holiday!

“I have to get out of here,” Peter grumbled after yet another unsuccessful escape plan. “I deserve better lighting than this.” They’d been in this damn train station for God knew how long, and he felt like was going out of his mind—again—with cabin fever and frustration. At least no one had set him on fire so far.

“Yeah, cuz that’s what’s really important here, your lighting,” Stiles scoffed, but his tone was fond. He slid down the pillar he was leaning against to sit on the floor across from Peter.

Peter puffed up a little. “Look, my face is the only good thing about this situation, and you can’t even _see_ it!”

Leaning forward, Stiles peered at him. He reached out to touch the stubble on Peter’s chin, and Peter suppressed a shiver. “You are suspiciously well-groomed for an escapee from a mental hospital. Does this place even have bathrooms?”

“Some of us have standards,” Peter said loftily.

~

Stiles poked at the smoking spot on the tracks where Random Guy had just been vaporized. “Well, that plan was a trainwreck.” He looked up to find Peter staring at him incredulously. “What?”

“That was an atrocious pun. Especially considering there aren’t any actual trains here.”

He winced a little. “Yeah, my dialogue writers are totally fired.” He turned away and started to head back into the station.

“It was also one of the most insensitive things I’ve heard you say,” Peter added. “I’m kind of proud.”

“Shut up.” He was aware that being cooped up was bringing out the worst in him. Normally he would blame Peter for that, but a strange kind of solidarity had grown up between them. Or maybe not so strange; he’d always felt a kinship with the wolf. In the past it had made him wary. They were enough alike for him to understand what Peter was capable of. Maybe that wariness had faded because Stiles had realized what _he_ was capable of…or maybe it was just the only way to stay sane under the circumstances.

“My little boy is growing up…” he teased. Stiles absolutely did not blush.

“Shut up. And also, ewww.”

~

Banter was the only way they had to pass the indeterminate time, and for that, Stiles couldn’t have picked a better partner than Peter. If he were being honest, Peter was a pretty good partner to have in this situation, full stop. He was clever, observant, and suspicious. His one failing was a tendency toward fatalism, and Stiles’ tenacity was a good match for that.

The only problem, besides the fact that they were stuck in some kind of living purgatory, was that being alone with Peter made it harder to avoid how much Stiles _liked_ being alone with Peter. They’d always had a certain amount of chemistry, but before now there’d always been some kind of distraction to keep it from progressing any further. Peter would execute one of his hairbrained schemes, or Lydia would kiss him out of the blue (and then never follow it up). And of course, there was the time when he dated Peter’s daughter, who was basically an appropriately aged, heteronormative version of Peter.

Stiles had always figured it was the universe trying to tell him something, but maybe it was just that the universe was judgmental and homophobic.

~

“Stiles. Let’s not have a moment,” Peter said.

Oh, Stiles was so done with the universe. He closed the space between them with determination and pulled Peter into an angry kiss. When they finally pulled away, breathless, he said, “Oh, we’re having a moment. We’re having _several_ moments, to discuss why somehow our only option here seems to be to let a two-time burn victim incinerate himself _again_.”

Peter was panting a little, and his eyes were slightly glassy. “Not that I don’t appreciate the concern, but haven’t we tried everything else?”

“We’ve tried everything we were supposed to try,” he said thoughtfully. “But I’m pretty sure there a loose thread around here somewhere, and if I can just find it and yank…” He snapped his fingers. “Spark!”

“I thought we were against fire?” Peter looked bemused.

“Not fire, a spark. A spark which is me, according to something Deaton said once. And the Nogitsune mentioned it too, when I asked it why it chose me. It seems to mean I can…make things happen. If I really believe they will,” Stiles explained awkwardly.

“Okay, Tinkerbell.” Peter’s smirk was infuriating as always. “You gonna click your heels three times and get us out of here?”

“That’s two completely different movies. Your dialogue writer is fired too.”

“What’s the plan, Stiles?” Peter asked, losing his patience a little.

Stiles looked away and shifted nervously. “The plan is we both walk out of here, together, and we somehow don’t get burned?”

“That’s a shitty plan,” he said seriously. “Really, that is up there with some of the worst plans I’ve ever heard.”

“Like yours?” Stiles snarked back. “Look, I don’t want to die either, but I really do believe this will work. And belief is how it works. The Nogtisune showed me a little, when it was in my head, and I’ve done some things since then that should’ve have really been possible.”

“Such as?”

“Well, do you really think the Jeep runs on an engine that’s ninety percent duct tape?”

“Fair point,” Peter conceded. “But if you think I’m letting you get incinerated because Deaton told you you’re some kind of magical Little Engine That Could, you’ve got another think coming.”

Stiles stared at him. “I think that was the worst one yet.”

“It was terrible,” Peter agreed, horrified. “Forget the Ghost Riders, we’d better get out of here before we’re killed by bad writing.”

Stiles grabbed his hand and yanked him toward the exit. A few moments and a small frisson of energy later, they were out in the Preserve, staring up into the night sky. “Well, that was easy.”

“What do we do now?” Peter asked.

Stiles shrugged. “Let’s go see what we can do with my newfound magic…and maybe some better writing.”


End file.
